Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Writing (01/11/07)
- TITLE: Where All Beauty Lies
By Loren T. Lowery
01/17/07 -
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I turned to see a valley and in it, a pale, blanched light moving like grey mist upon the hills. Its movement choreographed, rhythmic and undulating. And beneath its ethereal-like vapor rose the thunderous noise of tens of thousands of pacing hooves.
Winged stallions, wild and frenzied suddenly thundered toward me; and, I turned around to face the stark oblivion behind me. How I knew, I don’t know, but I turned back to the horses once again and raised my hand, causing them to stop.
One came forward, nostrils flaring, ears pinned, mane swept by the wind, eyes black with fury. It did not charge me, but waited. Again, I knew and stood aside, nodding my head and pointing outward into the black abyss.
The winged stallion raced out into the darkness and my eyes followed its white form until it vanished like a fading star – blinking out into nothingness.
But suddenly a spark of light exploded where it had disappeared and a red flame shot outwards to its right - its crimson tongue embroidering an invisible horizon, stretching ever outward.
I could feel the hot breath of another horse pacing behind me. I turned once again, and nodded for the horse to race onward beyond its valley. It ran and my eyes followed until it vanished. Soon, there was another explosion of light, but this time green and it spread upon its own hidden horizon to the left.
Thousands upon thousands of winged horses, too numerous to count, waited and I released them one by one. The sky was now a kaleidoscope of color. I wanted, I needed to see more and jumped upon one of the steeds to ride toward the flames, but as we came closer to the lights, my horse tossed its head, flexed its wings and threw me to the ground. It paused in air a moment looking at me as if in disbelief, but only for a moment, and then raced off. Kicking, bucking and free.
Coming up, I stood on an island of black, surrounded not be flames as I had thought, but in the center of an orb of shattered glass. Above me, around me, I found myself looking up with awe into the brillaint mullioned windows of another world.
Another horse flew by me, dream-like and fleeting as thought itself with God’s Grace riding upon its wing. I then knew that I had once kept captive these beautiful animals, waiting only my command to be released to shatter the dark glass covering my world.
My words, my thoughts, my imagination, my writings are my winged horses. They graze expectantly in the grey-misted valley of my mind. And, If I keep trying, and truly learn to ride, they will carry me to other worlds just beyond the invisible black barrier of my doubts. Indeed they will shatter the blackened glass and expose the place where all beauty lies.
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Well done.